The Most Bromantic Time of Year
by idleness
Summary: Cleon fills romance's void with bromance. Written for Seek for Fief Goldenlake's 2017 Secret Admirer Exchange. Prompt: PotS bromance among Kel and friends.


What a sorry state the other boys were in, all mooning over the lovely Yamani ladies. Except, perhaps Prince Roald, who interacted with the lovely Yamani Princess like someone attempting to make small talk while trying to hold in a fart. And perhaps more oddly, Cleon could detect no signs of star-crossed love in Neal. More was the pity for their entertainment, but that was a puzzle for another day.

Then again, he was pretty sure Neal had figured out the cause of his own moon-brained behaviour. He probably figured it out about the same time Cleon did. The only thing Cleon couldn't figure out was if Kel had any inkling. She would, right?

Kel wasn't at this particular party, but some of the others were. He hailed Seaver as they met in an ante-room to collect new trays of wine and canapes.

"Seaver! Have I mentioned you are like a luminous ray of morning sun in that shade of yellow? Your eyes are like…" he paused as his mind grappled madly for an analogy. He shrugged and grinned. "Like… Oh bother, it's such a distracting yellow that I lost my train of thought."

Seaver blinked at him, bemused and maybe a little bit alarmed.

"I don't know if I should be pleased or offended," he finally returned.

"Pleased, obviously."

"That doesn't seem obvious to me," Seaver protested quietly.

"Seaver's just upset that you got distracted by his tunic and forgot about his eyes. They're his best feature, you know," drawled a voice. Faleron had joined them.

"Yellow's not his colour, either," muttered Esmond, on his way past.

Regrettably, Esmond had a point—yellow did make Seaver look quite jaundiced. Luckily he'd only have to wear his knight-master's fief colours and look sickly in front of all of the court beauties for another four years.

Cleon affected a deep sigh.

"So I botched it, but you don't all have to pile on. You should take it in the spirit it was it was meant—a heartfelt expression of friendly affection, from one man to another."

The other boys snorted and dispersed as Master Oakbridge squawked an admonishment at them for loitering. It seemed to Cleon that the man had a perverse ability to sense fun, and was instantly and without fail there to stamp it out.

He found Seaver near the end of the party, as they picked up empty glasses.

"Sorry about earlier," he said, sheepishly.

"Don't worry, it was a good joke," Seaver said wryly and shrugged. "Who's next?"

"Next?" Cleon blinked.

"Yeah, spread the love. You can't leave anyone out. They might start getting jealous."

Cleon rubbed his chin as a slow smile spread across his face. He couldn't figure out if Seaver was putting him up for a world of trouble or not, but he decided he didn't care. It would be entertaining.

Looking amused, Seaver added, "But maybe next time, think it through first." 

* * *

The next evening, several things happened. Neal was bossed around by a small and vivacious Yamani lady, Roald finally lost that constipated manner, and Cleon kissed Kel for midwinter luck. 

* * *

Faleron found himself next object of Cleon's banter, by chance of happening across him one afternoon.

"Faleron!" he carolled. "My day has brightened immeasurably, now that you're in it. Every time I see you, I feel a lightness in my steps, as if the weight of my worries has melted away."

The younger boy rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Good afternoon, Cleon. It's nice to see you too."

They fell into step.

"So what are you up to?" Cleon asked. He'd wandered as close to the Own's quarters in the hope of bumping into Kel, but now it was time to turn back before Sir Inness noticed and started teasing him.

The routines and of their page years had fallen away, and for the most part they followed their knight-masters' schedules. Luckily, squires served at the late night parties during Midwinter, rather than the banquets, so there was generally a few of them around in the pages and squires mess.

Faleron shrugged.

"Not much. Thought I'd go for a walk before supper."

"Same."

"You been having lessons, or has your knight master let you off for the holidays?"

"Training," replied Cleon gloomily. "Or if not that, duties. I'm beginning to think that excessive love of work is a Mindelan trait rather than Yamani."

Faleron laughed. "I keep forgetting Kel's brother is your knight master."

"Have you seen Kel much?" asked Cleon. He cleared his throat self-consciously.

"From time to time. We served together at a party last night," Faleron said, shrugging. "Lord Raoul is keeping her busy, so she said she's been taking her meals with the Own. Why do you ask?"

"Ah—no reason," he lied. Was three days too soon to conclude that she was avoiding him?

Faleron looked at him, but thankfully changed the subject as their steps took them into the mess hall. 

* * *

The following night, Neal and Esmond were his serving mates for the evening entertainments. He flopped his arms over their shoulders as they waited in the servery room.

"My dear, lovely gentlemen, true friends of my heart. I'm excessively pleased to see you tonight."

The other boys groaned and pushed him off.

"I think," said Neal, "that I may comfortably say I'm excessively fond of you also, Cleon."

"I'm so happy, I have no words," replied Cleon, and he was.

"You're not going to hug us again, are you?" said Esmond, eyeing him warily.

"No, one was all you get tonight."

"Oh good," replied Esmond, with relief. "I'm fond of you too, but I'm not sure about these public displays of affection."

Cleon grinned. Esmond could be as fussy as Master Oakbridge when he wanted, but he was a good sort.

"Well lads, I think I can get through tonight's trials with two fine men such as you at my side."

Oddly, he felt that swell of emotion as he made this proclamation. Though, with Yancen and Zahir sauntering in, he resisted the urge to make further proclamations, or to hug Neal and Esmond again. Neal would probably roll with it, but he'd be pushing his luck with Esmond.

They went to their duties, serving the guests and dignitaries. Guests flitted in and out from other parties in nearby rooms, and Cleon thought at one point he spied Neal conversing with a lady in a colourful kimono. The lady—Yukimi, he reminded himself—disappeared not long after, and he didn't spot her or any of the other Yamanis at that party. Oh well. It wouldn't have been be very subtle of him to ask her how Kel was anyway.

"Did you kiss Kel for Midwinter luck?"

Cleon turned and looked at Neal with fright. Luckily he'd just placed his tray of empty glasses down in the servery.

"How did you know?"

"I didn't. I just guessed," said Neal, smugly. "But thanks for confirming it."

Cleon scowled at the older boy.

"Gods, Neal. You've always got your nose up in everyone's business," he complained.

"And thank goodness for that," replied Neal, throwing his hands up dramatically, "since I don't know where you'd be or what you'd do without me."

Cleon glared at Neal, and suppressed the urge to dunk his friend's head in the punch bowl. He waited for Neal to spit out what was really on his mind.

Neal sighed and raked his hand through his hair.

"You know you probably gave her the fright of her life, right?"

"Do you think so?" he asked, blinking. Surely she'd noticed his flirting!

"I'm certain. She's let slip a few things in the past—" Neal seemed to pause and reconsider. "Look, don't think she thinks of herself as desirable, romantically. In her mind that's a fact. So it doesn't occur to her that other people might disagree."

"But that doesn't make any sense at all!"

"And yet here we are," drawled Neal. "You could smack her in the face with a haddock and she'll see a mouse if a mouse was what she wanted to see. You've just smacked her in the face with a haddock."

"So… what you're saying is that I screwed up."

"Not necessarily, no," said Neal tartly. They'd turned in their napkins and walked out of the servery to leave for the night. "That's just jumping to conclusions."

"Then, O font of wisdom, what sage pearls of advice do you have for me?"

"Give her time to adjust to the idea that you might _like_ like her. And then… try not to make any sudden moves."

Cleon blinked slowly. He hadn't actually thought of that, though it was certainly more hopeful for him than what he'd been thinking—that she was avoiding him because she certainly didn't like him in that way.

"Thanks, Neal."

"You're welcome."

"One thing, though—I kiss much better than a haddock."

"I'll take your word for it," said Neal drily. 

* * *

They heard that Third Company of the Own—and Kel—left later that week to escort the outgoing Tyran ambassador back to his country.

Though he was naturally disappointed, he resigned himself and focussed on his lessons and duties. He would wait for her, and find out later whether she thought of him as more than just a friend. He did however, continue to express his great affection for all of his friends.

He spied the other boys in the Great Hall and strode towards them. The group—Neal, Seaver, Faleron, Roald, and Owen—had agreed to meet there before going down to the city together, and he was running late. At least he wasn't the last, as they were still missing Owen.

"Good morning Merric, my snowdrop! The drear of winter is but a distant memory when I have your company," he said, flashing a grin at Merric's bemused glower. The redhead boy had missed most of the Midwinter festivities, having just arrived back at the Palace with his knight master.

"Only Merric? You've never called me 'snowdrop'," joked Roald. "I'm beginning to feel left out."

Cleon ignored Seaver's snorting laugh and bowed to the prince.

"You bring just as much joy to my heart as Merric does, your highness," he said cheerfully. "I just hadn't found the right terms of endearment yet."

"Then I look forward to receiving your compliments when you've composed them," said Roald with a laugh.

Owen ran in a flap.

"Sorry I'm late," he puffed, as if he'd run quickly for a good distance. "What've I missed?"

"Well," drawled Neal, "Cleon has been practicing his flattery on Merric."

"Hey! I'll have you know it's not mere flattery," said Cleon, indignant. "I mean every word of it. Sincerely."

The other boys snorted.

"Oh! I'm sure it's not flattery," cried Owen. "You're all such jolly fine fellows, and I'm so just pleased to know you all."

Owen's proclamation was given with the most genuine sincerity that Cleon felt that bursting feeling in his chest again. He was truly glad to count these boys as his friends, and he must not have been the only one.

"Group hug!" they cried. 

* * *

And as such, it was that the lot of them were spied flailing and joking together (some hugged more willingly than others) by three onlookers.

"Brings back memories," said Jonathan, misty eyed.

Alanna and Gary looked at Jon and then at each other.

"We're not too old for a group hug."


End file.
